Unmade
by SIGF
Summary: What if Natasha had been the one compromised and put under Loki's mind control instead of Clint? Movieverse
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Unmade  
**Author:** SIGF  
**Summary:** What if Natasha had been the one compromised and put under Loki's mind control instead of Clint? (Movieverse)  
**Disclaimer:** Nothing in The Avengers world belongs to me, sadly.  
**Warning: **I think this story is going to get pretty dark later, hence the M rating.  
**Author's Note:** This story is basically going to be scenes from the movie, but changed up as if Natasha had been the one under mind control rather than Clint. Therefore, a lot of the lines in the movie will be reused here.

* * *

Only few people in the world get what they deserve, good or bad.

Clint Barton, alias Hawkeye, knew that he couldn't do anything about the former. That was God's work - well, if there even was a God. But he could certainly deliver justice and vengeance to the wicked.

Of course, the more he purged evil from the world, the more red his ledger collected, until it was practically gushing.

No one ever said that the life of an assassin was easy, after all.

But, this was the life he willingly chose for himself, and this was how he came to find himself standing in a bell tower in Montepulciano, Italy, bow in hand. His current mission was to assassinate some key players in the Amalfi family's famed weapons-trafficking ring. The Amalfi's, the largest black market weapons dealers in the world, sold high-powered weapons to dangerous groups that had no business wielding them. This included terrorist organizations looking for high-tech explosives, crime bosses looking for the kind of bullets that would rip through a policeman's protective armor, and any other unsavory sort that one could imagine.

S.H.E.I.L.D.'s plan was to attack the organization at its head, completely decapitating the leadership of the ring - metaphorically speaking, of course, as the act of decapitation itself was a messy one, and messy wasn't Clint's style. In any case, once that was taken care of, S.H.E.I.L.D. would then send in its still skilled but less subtle agents to clean up whatever remained.

Traveling throughout Europe for the past six months, Clint had managed to successfully take out four of his five targets, with his hawk eyes now hunting his last mark.

Finally the soon-to-be-perished soul emerged from a building nearly 1,200 yards away - more than close enough for Clint to hit with dead-aim accuracy, but far enough away to allow for a clean escape.

Taking a deep breath, Clint focused on the familiar feel of his arrow against his fingertips. In this moment, like the countless other times he had performed such an act, there was only himself and his bow, assassin and weapon - nothing else mattered, save for the unsuspecting target currently surrounded (in vain) by a sea of bodyguards.

That's why, when his cell phone rang and subsequently removed him from the heat of the moment, Clint let out a not-so-delicate curse. Turning on his Bluetooth so that he could keep his weapon trained on the mark while talking, Clint made his displeasure known.

"It's kind of a bad time," Clint stated with thinly-veiled annoyance.

Yet, the caller persisted. "We need you to come in," said the serious voice of his handler, Phil Coulson, who had clearly chosen to disregard Clint's uncongenial salutation.

Mildly surprised at Coulson's request, Clint wondered if his handler had somehow forgotten that he was in the middle of an important job. "Are you kidding? I'm working," Clint grumbled, sounding as close to a five-year old throwing a tantrum as a deadly assassin could get. Watching his target slowly get closer and closer to safety, Clint debated taking him out now, making a run for it, and calling Coulson back later when he was in the clear and had the time.

Completely unsympathetic to the assassin's plight, Coulson merely said, "This takes precedence."

Clint rolled his eyes. It was always something with the suits, wasn't it? Well, not this time, not when he was so close to completing his mission. "I'm about to take out my last target. Look, you can't pull me out of this right now," Clint protested, unwavering in his position.

"Barton... Natasha's been compromised."

At those words Clint's gray eyes widened, unseeing, and suddenly, everything seemed to change. The whole world now appeared so very far away, as if he were no longer a part of it. His target, who had been an easy kill only milliseconds ago, was now beyond his reach. Clint felt his precious bow slip through his hands and vaguely heard it clanking on the floor.

_Natasha's been compromised_... These were the words he always dreaded hearing when he and Natasha were apart, and hearing them finally spoken aloud for the first time felt as if someone had punched him square in the gut. Leaning against the wall, Clint felt his legs slowly give way, and before he knew it he had slid down to a sitting position.

Natasha Romanoff … the Black Widow. Master spy, master assassin, and partner to one Clint Barton. While a good partner was hard to find in and of itself, more than that, she was a good friend - something you didn't take for granted in Clint's line of work.

She meant a great deal to him, probably more than she should, and the thought of waking up in a world without her left him feeling cold all over.

But Coulson had said _compromised_ and not dead, which meant...

"Where's Natasha now?" he demanded, wondering how far away she was and how long it would take him to reach her.

"We don't know," was Coulson's only answer.

"But she's alive," he stated, unable to form the words as a question, too afraid of the answer he'd receive.

"We think so," Coulson responded, and Clint shut his eyes tightly, not nearly reassured enough by his handler's lack of conviction. "I'll brief you on everything when you get back. But first, we need you to talk to the big guy."

"The big guy?" he asked with surprise. "Surely you don't mean..."

"Yes. Banner. I've got Stark, you get the big guy."

Oh, boy. If S.H.E.I.L.D. was so desperate as to involve "the big guy," whatever they were fighting had to be - well, _big_. Yes, now that he thought about it, it must be so if Natasha had been compromised. She was the most deadly and capable agent that he'd ever known. Only someone highly skilled would have been able to take her down and lived to tell about it.

Recalling her current mission, Clint knew that Fury had enlisted her to help guard the Tesseract, a powerful energy source of unknown potential. If that thing had as much power as S.H.E.I.L.D. believed it did, there was no telling to what lengths someone would go to acquire it...

Clint shivered as a feeling of foreboding prickled at his spine.

_Stay __safe__, __Natasha__,_ Clint thought. _I __will __come for you__._

And with that last thought, Clint abandoned his mission and set off to find Banner.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_Please take the time to review and let me know what you think. Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** First and foremost, I wanted to say, thank you everyone for the wonderful feedback. I'm completely overwhelmed (in a good way) by the response to this story, and can only hope that you'll continue to enjoy it.

Now, for story stuff: Okay, so don't be mad, but this chapter goes on a little bit of a tangent. I promise I'll get to more movie stuff in the next chapter (there will be Loki!), but I thought there needed to be some exposition on the dynamic between Clint and Natasha first... and then I ended up going a little overboard. So, I apologize in advance, and if you don't like this chapter, hopefully you'll find what you're looking for in the next one.

Also, any events that take place in the past are completely made up by me, based (very loosely) on things I read about the histories of the comic book characters. So, they won't be true to any canon but my own.

Anyway, here it is, the next chapter. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**CHAPTER 2**

When it comes to virtues, assassins don't tend to have all that many. It's been said, though, that patience is a virtue, and patience was something Agent Clint Barton had in spades. No master archer worth his salt could afford to be anything but patient. After all, in a world full of moving targets, being able to wait until just the right moment to release an arrow was just as vital as one's aim.

But yet, knowing that his partner, his friend, his _Natasha_ was in danger turned the world on its head. No longer was he the archer, the one in control, but now he was the arrow, yearning to be released, itching to find its target. S.H.I.E.L.D. now had him in its grasp, holding him in its bow until the time was right to release. Data needed to be gathered, camera feeds needed to be analyzed, the new members of the team needed to be briefed...

_Like an arrow, helplessly waiting__... __waiting__... __WAITING__ to be released...  
_

Clint wanted to scream.

Of course, he couldn't scream, not without being sent away for a Level 3 psych evaluation. So, instead, he sat in the bridge of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s airship, just... waiting.

"We got a hit," a voice said, and Clint's ears perked up immediately. "Sixty-seven percent match. Weight, cross-match, seventy-nine percent."

"Location?" Coulson asked, and Clint was suddenly grateful that his handler had never been one to beat around the bush.

"Stuttgart, Germany. 28, Konigstrasse. He's not exactly hiding," the agent reported. Clint nearly scoffed. Loki, that arrogant son-of-a-bitch. He'd be sure to put an arrow right between his eyes. That would make him feel better, he supposed.

"Captain, you're up," Fury ordered. "Barton, you're going with him."

And finally … _released_.

* * *

_Clint's opponent released yet another arrow, and as he watched it sail by his nose, he wondered how everything had gotten so completely fucked up._

_The mission had started out like any other. The objective had been clear enough: Find the target, kill the target._

_When Clint had been told that the mark was a master archer, he merely smiled. "I guess we'll see which one of us is better, then," he'd said, looking forward to the encounter._

_"Neither of you," Natasha responded, rolling her eyes. "I plan on getting the kill, and then you'll know that I'm better than the both of you," she'd challenged with a teasing smile. "Besides, archery is lame."  
_

_Yes, it had all been fun and games, just an amusing little battle between him and Natasha - that is, until everything went awry._

_Somehow the target had taken notice of them, had found out that they were in town to kill him. The mark ended up getting the jump on him and Natasha, and after managing to avoid a hail of arrows, the two of them became engaged in a close-quarters battle with their opponent at an abandoned warehouse._

_Still, the man was outnumbered, and while Natasha distracted the target from shooting more arrows with her deft hand-to-hand combat, Clint lined up his shot._

_He was about to release his arrow, aiming to bury it right in the mark's throat, when Natasha inadvertently kicked off man's mask._

_Clint would never forget the shock of that moment, not for as long as he lived._

_"Bar... Barney?" Clint asked, staring in awe at the man in front of him. He relaxed his grip on his bow and lowered the weapon._

_"Hawkeye?" Natasha questioned, flicking her eyes over at her partner for a quick second but leaving her attention focused on the mark. Clint was grateful that she trusted him enough to stop fighting, even though she had nothing to go on but his hesitation. Yet, cautious as always, she remained in her fighting stance, her eyes acutely trained on the potential threat._

_"That's right, _Hawkeye_, it's me," the man sneered, his face contorted into a twisted grin. "But you can call me Trickshot. Did you miss me, little brother?"_

_Clint heard Natasha let out an audible breath. "But you... but, I thought you were dead," Clint said, sounding like a lost little boy as he battled the emotions that were warring within him. His brother had died years ago, sacrificing himself in an FBI mission to destroy a deadly ray-projector - or so, Clint had thought. Clint had been assigned by S.H.I.E.L.D. to help his brother. He'd been on the mission, and he had watched first-hand as the only family he had was killed and cruelly taken from him. And now, here was his brother, alive and in the flesh.  
_

_But, somewhere in the deep and long-forgotten recesses of his heart, Clint knew that this abomination in front of him wasn't his brother, not really. His brother had been a hero, and the man he was fighting now was a monster. He'd killed hundreds of innocent people, and if given the chance, would kill thousands more. Still, even though Clint could see in his eyes that he was beyond saving, he couldn't let himself give up on his brother just yet. He _had_ to try to find out what happened and fix it ... he owed his brother that much.  
_

_A deliberate laugh shook him from his thoughts. "Of course you thought I was dead, little brother. After all, you were the one who left me to die, weren't you?" Barney's voice was laced with nothing but bitterness, and the tone was so acrid that Clint could almost feel it poisoning his heart.  
_

_"No... I didn't- I wouldn't-" Clint stuttered._

_"Enough!" a voice snapped, but it wasn't his brother's. It was Natasha's. "Look- Barney, was it?" she said conversationally, relaxing her fighting stance. "Clearly you and Clint have some issues to work out. Why don't you come with us back to S.H.I.E.L.D., and the two of you can talk it through? It beats the hell out of having us all kill each other, doesn't it?" Natasha smiled prettily at his brother, and then held out her hand to him in a show of trust._

_Seemingly mesmerized by the Black Widow, seduced by her charm and beauty like many a man before him, Barney reached out his hand, cautiously, and clasped hers. Clint breathed slowly, carefully, as if afraid of frightening away a timid animal. Could it be - would he manage avoid a bloody confrontation with his brother after all?_

_However, his hope was short-lived. After a few long seconds, Barney's face contorted again and he yanked Natasha toward him. Clint saw the dagger in his brother's left hand, and watch with dread as the blade was thrust toward his partner._

_"Tasha, NO!" he yelled in horror, trying to warn her, trying to stop it. But there was no need - this was the Black Widow, and no man was her master. She dodged the blade at the last second, and slammed her elbow into the face of her attacker, breaking his nose._

_Her target was stunned, incapacitated, and he would now be her prey. Yet, instead of delivering the killing blow, she hesitated. _

_That was uncharacteristic of her ... the Black Widow never hesitated. Anyone in the business of killing others, especially someone like Natasha Romanoff, understood that hesitation was often followed by a quick death._

_Clint knew, though, that she did it for him. And when he sent an arrow into his brother's heart, killing him instantly, Natasha knew that he did it for her._

_The two assassins stood in silence for a long moment over the dead body - it could have even been hours. Neither knew what to do, what to say, at a time like this._

_"Clint," Natasha finally ventured, "I'm sor-"_

_"Tasha," he cut her off, "don't. Don't tell me that you're sorry, not when I almost got you killed. I was being foolish." As the words came out, the guilt poured over him, almost suffocating him. Guilt over executing his brother, guilt over almost getting Natasha killed... God, Natasha, what if he had lost her?_

_"It wasn't foolish," she said quietly, and he looked at her in surprise. "It wasn't foolish, and if it was, I'm grateful. After all, wasn't it the same foolishness that led you to spare my life all those years ago?"_

_"I suppose it was," he answered, but even as he said the words, he knew that they were wrong. Clint's best assets were his eyes, and as an archer unrivaled by any other, he could see things in ways that no one else in the world could. So, when he made the decision to spare Natasha - as he stared her down, arrow at the ready and poised for the kill - there was something he could see in her that he knew was worth saving._

_But, he couldn't find the words to explain that to her, so he just let it be. "Tasha..." he said quietly, looking down at his brother's dead body. "S.H.I.E.L.D. … Fury... do you think they knew that the mark was my brother?"_

_Natasha considered the question seriously, hesitating in her response. "It's possible that they didn't," she finally said, "since Barney Barton was presumed dead."_

_"But?" he asked, shifting his gaze so that it locked with hers._

_"But," she continued, "S.H.I.E.L.D. is an intelligence organization. They're in the business of knowing these kinds of things. So, if I had to guess? I'd say yes, they knew, or at least, suspected."_

_"I see," was Clint's only response, and he looked away from her again. His eyes roamed over the unmoving corpse of his brother, his own flesh and blood, and suddenly, he found it hard to breathe. He just killed the only family he'd ever known, and his employer, the same organization that he'd dedicated his life to, was using him as a pawn in its fucked-up games. Clint had never felt more alone than at that very moment._

_After a pause he said, "Would you mind giving me a moment alone, Natasha?" He couldn't stand it, the feeling of her eyes piercing into his back, boring into his soul, and goddammit, all he wanted to do right now was break something._

_"Actually, I mind," she told him. "I like this spot."_

_Clint bit back his frustration, wondering why she couldn't see how very close he was to exploding. Now was not the time for their fun little games, didn't she know that? Didn't she care about him at all? Or had he always just imagined that, too...  
_

_"Fine, then _I'll_ go," he snarled. But, before he got very far, she grabbed his arm roughly, spinning him toward her._

_"WHAT?" he screamed in her face, his gray eyes now stormy and filled with rage. But, she didn't so much as flinch. Instead, she wordlessly wrapped her arms around him and buried her head into his chest._

_Clint was so shocked by her rare display of affection that his surprise soon displaced all of his anger. He stood there dumbly for a few moments until, as if by their own accord, his arms circled around her, holding her tightly to him._

_"Tasha," he whispered softly, feeling her warmth melt away all of his loneliness and desperation._

_And, that's when he finally realized - he wasn't alone, not anymore._

Not ever again,_ he vowed._

* * *

To be continued...

Whether you liked or hated this chapter, please take the time to review and let me know what you think. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I'm glad that you all seemed to enjoy the last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to review... it really makes me excited about this story. I'm very humbled by all of your kind words :-)

And, now, what most of you have probably been waiting for - here's the chapter with Clint's confrontation with Loki. I hope you like my take on it. Just a slight warning - this chapter contains some mature themes.

* * *

Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, and Thor were all gathered in the command center of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s airship, watching as Loki was interrogated by Nick Fury.

The mission to apprehend him had gone smoothly - _too __smoothly_, if you asked Clint. The only hiccup had been when Thor tried to villain-nap Loki, which had turned into something of a pissing contest between Thor, Stark, and Rogers. Clint had stayed out of it, opting instead to take the quinjet to Loki's location while the three other men were having it out. There was no way he was going to let Loki escape - certainly not for the sake of his own ego. Natasha would have kicked his ass if he were to let that happen.

As for Natasha herself... to say that Clint had been disappointed when she hadn't been with Loki in Germany would have been an understatement. While Rogers and Stark fought Loki he knew that she had to be somewhere nearby, being forced to do Loki's dirty work. But, even his piercing hawk eyes couldn't manage to locate the covert spy. S.H.I.E.L.D. had Loki now, though, and soon enough, hopefully Natasha and the Tesseract would follow.

Yet, all of Clint's senses were tingling, and he couldn't help but feel like something about this was all wrong. Loki seemed much too eager to be taken prisoner, as if everything were going according to _his_ plan. _What __kind __of __game __is __he __playing_, Clint wondered with frustration.

"He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Banner observed with no small hint of sarcasm.

"Like a tumor, maybe," Clint mused, causing Banner chuckle.

"Loki's gonna drag this out. So, Thor, what's his play?" Rogers asked, getting down to business. Under less straining circumstance, Clint considered that he might get along well with Rogers. Although Rogers seemed to have - to put it kindly - a stick up his ass, he was smart, focused, and didn't put his own pride before a mission.

"He has an army called the Chitauri, that none of Asgard nor any world know," Thor responded. "He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."

Rogers paused. "An army, from outer space," he recounted with disbelief.

"Well, that's just dandy," Clint commented. "And by dandy I mean, really, really, horrible."

The others couldn't help but agree.

"So, he's building another portal," Banner said. "That's what he needs Erik Selvig for."

"Selvig?" Thor asked.

Banner nodded. "He's an astrophysicist."

"He's a friend," Thor said with confusion.

"Loki has him under some kind of spell, along with one of ours," Clint told him, his throat tightening as he thought of Natasha. He knew that until he had her back, this pill would continue to be a bitter one to swallow.

"I want to know why Loki let us take him," Rogers said, echoing Clint's earlier concerns. "He's not leading an army from here."

"I don't think we should be focusing on Loki," Banner asserted. "That guy's brain is a bag full of cats. You could smell crazy on him."

_Well__, __no __argument __there__,_ Clint surmised. Still he had to disagree with Banner. Loki was up to something, he just knew it...

"I don't care for how you speak," Thor said threateningly. "Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard, and he's my brother."

"He killed eighty people in two days," Clint grumbled.

"He's adopted," Thor said quickly, backtracking, and Clint couldn't help but smile. Once Natasha was back, he might even end up enjoying this whole Avengers thing, after all.

* * *

Clint silently entered the room holding Loki's prison, taking a moment to observe the villain while he was facing away from the door.

Directed by Fury, Clint's mission was to see if he could extract any information from Loki about his next move. As Fury had said earlier, Loki seemed like the only person on the ship who wanted to be here. There was just something unnerving about how calm Loki was with the whole situation - he clearly had some kind of trick up his sleeve.

Clint fully intended to find out what it was, but beyond that, he also wanted to learn more about what Loki did to Natasha. There was never any harm in killing two birds with one stone anyway, was there?

Taking out three arrows, Clint shot them at the room's surveillance cameras. These arrows were specially made to jam electronics, and he figured it would take around 10 minutes or so for S.H.I.E.L.D. to unscramble the signal and get the cameras up and running again. Ever since S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him after his own brother, Clint was careful to hide as much personal information as he could from the organization. This time, though, he did it not only for himself, but to protect Natasha as well. He had no idea what Loki might reveal about her, if anything, but whatever it was, he wouldn't let S.H.I.E.L.D. use it against her.

Fury would surely be - well, _furious_ - but this wouldn't be the first time Clint had disobeyed protocols. Generally, S.H.I.E.L.D. was okay with his occasional disregard for the rules because he always produced results. S.H.I.E.L.D. was quite Machiavellian in that way, after all. More than anything, the organization believed that the end justified the means.

"Impressive, Agent Barton," Loki commented casually after turning to face him. "Both in marksmanship and in stealth. There are not many people that can sneak up on me."

Getting only his second up-close-and-personal look at Loki, Clint studied him for a moment. Loki didn't appear to be too intimidating, especially when he was without his menacing spear - the guy clearly needed a haircut, a shower, and a fashion sense. However, his dangerous, psychotic eyes more than made up for the rest of him, and Clint could almost feel them chilling his entire essence on the spot. They were evil and full of mischief, as if Loki got untold amusement from destroying the lives of others.

"Didn't you figure I'd come?" Clint asked, his eyebrow raised. Loki wasn't stupid - he had to know another interrogation was coming. Granted, this sort of thing wasn't Clint's specialty. If Natasha had been here, S.H.I.E.L.D. would certainly have sent her instead of him, as she thrived in disarming her marks, making them think they had the upper-hand, and using their arrogance against them. It was an art, really.

_But__, __Natasha __isn__'__t __here_, he thought, as a painful ache he'd been becoming used to over the past few days settled into his chest. Yes, Natasha wasn't here, so they had sent Clint, instead.

There was a lot at stake for him. He wouldn't fail.

"Yes, I did figure that you'd come," Loki responded, "But not until after. After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate."

Clint smirked. "I don't have time to wait for Fury's games. And, make no mistake - I'm no friend of yours," he told Loki with a growl in his voice. "I want to know what you've done to Agent Romanoff."

Loki chuckled. "I'd say I've expanded her mind," he replied boastfully.

"And once you've won. Once you're king of the mountain. What happens to her mind?" Clint asked, carefully keeping his face stoic.

Amusement danced in Loki's eyes. "Is this love, Agent Barton?" he questioned, his tone mocking and menacing.

Unaffected by Loki's attempt to goad him, Clint went on the attack. "And what would you know about love?" he asked seriously. "Despite all your powers, no one has ever loved you, have they? Not even the man who raised you as his son."

Loki's eyes went cold, but soon, a vicious smile found its way to his face. "And what of you, Agent Barton? You were an orphan, were you not? And then you went and killed your own brother, the only family you ever had." Clint looked at him in surprise, and Loki continued. "Yes, that's right. Your precious Natasha told me everything. That is, when she wasn't screaming out my name in ecstasy..."

All the air suddenly seemed to disappear from the room, and Clint had to consciously stop his knees from buckling. "What did you say?" he asked murderously, his eyes glowering.

"Oh, come now," Loki said, clearly enjoying himself. "Did you really think I'd be in possession of such a beautiful woman and not make her mine? My brother isn't the only god who can fraternize with a Midgardian, you know."

Clint felt himself trembling with rage. His muscles strained against his skin, as if his body was wondering why it wasn't slowly choking the life out of the man in front of him. Never, not even in his worst nightmares, had Clint imagined this. Anguish ripped through every nerve, every cell, every synapse in his body at the thought of Loki taking advantage of Natasha while she was under his mind control, touching her, climaxing into her...

For a second, Clint thought he might just break.

But, he had to keep it together. He wouldn't do Natasha any good by losing his cool here - that was exactly what Loki wanted, and he wouldn't play into his hands.

In that moment, Clint couldn't help but have a much greater respect for Banner and the struggle it took him to contain the Hulk. Lord knows it was taking every fiber of his being right now to keep the beast inside of himself from attempting to rip Loki to shreds.

Fleetingly, Clint also thought that if Natasha were in his place, she'd have Loki right where she wanted him. Yet, Clint couldn't do this with the same detached pragmatism as she could, not when Loki had just claimed to...

Clint tensed, feeling the sudden urge to vomit. "You're lying," he finally said through gritted teeth.

"Am I?" Loki challenged. "But you'll always wonder now, won't you? And tell me, Agent Barton - will you ever be able to look at her in the same way again, wondering if I had her first?"

As his fists clenched tightly, Clint's nails were digging into the palms of his hands so forcibly that they started to draw blood.

"Not that it even matters," Loki continued, clearly sensing that his opponent was teetering on the edge of insanity. "The Natasha you know is dead - you can't release her from my spell."

Clint shook his head, wishing that would help him purge out Loki's cruel words. His Natasha, she couldn't be dead - he _refused_ to believe it. Clint would get her back, no matter what it took, because any alternative was just unthinkable.

He felt himself weakening under Loki's verbal assault, wishing he could run away, wanting nothing more than for it to stop...

But Loki wasn't finished.

"You asked me earlier what I would do with her, once I was 'king of the mountain,' was it? Well, I'll make her my queen, of course," he said with a satisfying smile.

"Over my dead body," Clint whispered dangerously.

Loki's smile widened. "And even if you _could_ somehow release her from my spell, Agent Barton, what then? I would hope that if you really cared about her, you would care about her enough to kill her, because that's the only way she'll ever truly be free of me. After all, how do you think she'll feel, living with the guilt of all the evil that she's done, with the knowledge that I claimed her as my own and knew every inch of her body..."

_STOP __IT_, Clint wanted to scream, wanted to moan, the torment he was feeling seeming to eat him alive. The killer inside of him begged to be released, to snap Loki's neck in half.

Yet somehow, even though the anguish he was feeling was ripping his insides apart, aside from visibly shaking, Clint managed to keep his outward cool. "You don't know Natasha," Clint finally said, his voice quivering slightly. "She's stronger than you think."

"You're right, she is strong," Loki replied, his eyes narrowing. "And that's why I'll make her kill you. Slowly, intimately, in every way she knows you fear. And then she'll wake just long enough to see her good work, and when she screams I'll split her skull!" he spit out. "This is my bargain, you mewling geck!"

The picture Loki had painted was so graphic that Clint shuddered in disgust. As much as he hated to admit it, Loki's words had shaken him to his very core. Instead of feeling like a master assassin, like the dangerous killer he was, Clint just felt unraveled, completely undone. Loki was winning this battle, Clint was slowly losing himself... but he couldn't let that happen!

_Natasha_, Clint thought, clenching his eyes shut. _I __will free you from Loki and I will __save __us __from __this __fate__._

Refusing to back down, especially as the thought of Natasha needing him filled him with renewed strength, Clint locked eyes with Loki. "You're a monster," he snarled.

"Oh, no. _You_ brought the monster," Loki said knowingly.

Suddenly, as if snapping to attention, Clint's back shot up straight. This was it, the was the information he'd been looking for...

_Gotcha__, __asshole_, Clint thought, although it felt almost like a hollow victory in the wake of Loki's torment.

"So, Banner? That's your play?" Clint inquired eagerly.

"What?" Loki asked, the amusement quickly fading from his eyes.

Clint turned on his communication link and started talking into his earpiece. "Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way. Make sure the door is locked." Rushing out of the room, Clint turned around before exiting and peered icily at Loki. "I'm going to kill you, you know," he said matter-of-factly. "And if you're really immortal and can't die, well - I'm going to make you wish that you could. This is _my_ bargain," he vowed.

Finally leaving, Clint headed double-time to the lab. First, though, he made a beeline for the men's restroom and retched out all of the contents in his stomach.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_Thank you so much for reading! Sorry that my chapters keep getting longer and longer._

_If you can, please take the time to review and let me know what you think!_


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Once again, you all amaze me with all of the nice things that you have to say about the story. I'm truly grateful, and again want to thank everyone who has taken the time to review - it means a lot!

Now, regarding this chapter... I won't lie - it's not my favorite. I really struggled with wanting to include scenes that I felt were important, while having difficulty making them different and interesting in the context of this story. So, it may seem a little slow at times, but I felt I needed these scenes to progress the story. You _will_ get the Clint/Natasha fight scene, however, so hopefully that will make up for it! And, the med-bay scene will take place in the _next_ chapter, so maybe that will give you all something to look forward to.

In any case, thank you all reading _Unmade_. It makes it all the more fun to write.

* * *

_Ut oh,_ Clint thought as he heard the distinctive sounds of shouting coming from the direction of the lab. _Not good._ At least, not when a man with - _ahem_ - major anger management issues was present.

Finally reaching the door, Clint entered the lab with Thor right on his heels, only to hear Rogers, Stark, and Banner accusing Fury of lying to them.

Ah. So they had found out about Phase II, then.

"Did you know about this?" Banner asked him as he arrived, a flicker of betrayal flashing in the doctor's eyes. Banner's reaction and the following prickling feeling in Clint's gut made him realize that perhaps he had become closer to the men in this room than he had originally thought.

But, that didn't matter right now. This is exactly what Loki wanted - Banner on the edge. "You want to think about removing yourself from this environment, Doctor?" Clint asked calmly, trying to defuse the situation.

"I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed," Banner responded, his eyes accusatory.

"Loki's manipulating you," Clint told him, desperate to make Banner understand.

It wasn't working. "And you've been doing what, exactly?" Banner asked, cocking up an eyebrow.

_Banner sure isn't making this easy_, Clint thought, letting out a sigh of frustration. "Come on, now, Doctor. You didn't come here because I bat my eyelashes at you," he deadpanned. Now, maybe if _Natasha_ had recruited Banner, that might have been his reason for coming. But, befitting his style, Clint had gone with the more direct approach.

"Yes, and I'm not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy," Banner retorted. Twitchy? Well, that was a nice way of putting it. After that conversation with Loki, Clint felt a _hell of a lot_ _more_ than twitchy.

It wasn't long before everyone in the room erupted. Fury fighting with Thor, Rogers fighting with Stark, Banner seemingly pissed of at _everyone_...

_Not. Good._

Clint remained silent and watchful, simply observing, his eyes specifically trained on the doctor. He understood how it felt, to find out that the organization you were risking your life for was keeping you in the dark, using you as a pawn. _Yes__, __I __know __it __all __too __well__,_ Clint thought, remembering the situation with his brother.

The other men in this room hadn't had the time to come to grips with it like Clint had. Did he trust S.H.I.E.L.D.? No, not in the least bit. There was a lot he didn't know about the organization - hell, even Fury's _secrets_ had secrets.

But did he believe in S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Yes. Yes, he did. After all, sometimes you had to get your hands dirty to make the world a better place. Sometimes, you just had to accept the red in your ledger.

It was the authority of Fury's voice that finally broke into his thoughts. "Agent Barton, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-"

"Where? You're renting my room," Banner quipped sharply.

"The cell was just-"

"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't! I know... I tried." Banner told them, traces of self-deprecation evident in his tenor. "I got low, I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth - and the other guy spit it out. So I moved on, I focused on helping other people. I was good until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk," he said, once again looking at Clint. "You want to know my secret, Agent Barton? You want to know how I stay calm?" Banner asked, his volume getting louder with each word.

Clint tensed, sensing that Banner was a hair's breadth away from unleashing "the other guy". The doctor didn't even seem to be aware that he was now clutching Loki's scepter.

Clint's hands edged slowly toward his bow, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fury unhooking his gun. Not that it would do any good if Banner turned into the Hulk - Clint had seen the tapes of the green monster rampaging in Harlem.

"Dr. Banner, put down the scepter," Rogers ordered carefully, his words soon followed by a beeping sound. As the lab's computer began signaling that the search for the Tesseract was complete, the tension that had been boiling over in the room reduced to a mere simmer.

Banner put down the scepter and walked toward the computer monitor, with Clint closely following. If everyone wanted to rip each other's throats out, that was fine by him. Clint had bigger things to worry about, like finding the Tesseract, _finding Natasha_, and ending this ongoing nightmare.

"Sorry, kids. You don't get to see my party trick after all," Banner said, almost wistfully.

Like clockwork, Thor, Stark, and Rogers started bickering again, this time over who would be going after the Tesseract. Clint rolled his eyes as it eventually turned into a pissing match akin to the one that had taken place earlier in the woods.

"Oh, my God!" Banner suddenly exclaimed, staring intently at the computer monitor. But, before Clint could ask what was wrong, an explosion went off, sending him flying. Then, everything went black.

* * *

As his skull pounded with a feeling that Clint could only describe as _fuck that hurts_, Clint let out a pained moan. Dammit, his head sure hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. What the hell had just happened?

"Agent Barton! Report!" he heard Fury barking over his earpiece.

"Not so loud there, Director," Clint said with a wince. "I'm here with Banner," he disclosed after sweeping his eyes quickly around the room. "We're fine."

Well... now that he thought about it, "fine" might be a bit too optimistic. Clint was currently trapped under a heap of rubble, and the good doctor was writhing around and groaning mightily, clearly struggling not to morph into the Hulk.

"We're fine, right?" he asked the man beside him. But, it seemed that Banner was beyond hearing him.

They were most definitely _not_ fine.

"Doctor?" he tried again, but to no avail. "Bruce, you've got to fight it. This is just what Loki wants. We're gonna be okay. Listen to me," Clint said soothingly, his words betraying no trace of the panic he currently felt. "We're going to be okay. Right? I swear on my life that I will get you out of this," he vowed. "You will walk away, and never-"

"Your life?" Banner snarled savagely in a voice that was only half his own.

Before Clint could even respond, the transformation began in earnest. Banner gave Clint one final look, his eyes still human in that fleeting moment, apologetic, and full of sorrow.

"Bruce..." Clint pleaded, but it was too late. The doctor was gone, and only a monster remained in his place - one that was more terrifying than Clint could have ever imagined.

_Shit._ He had to get out of here.

With what seemed like a Herculean effort, Clint managed to free himself from the rubble and took off running, the Hulk raging behind him. Clint knew that the only way he'd be able to survive would be if he could outrun Banner, and considering the speed at which the green monster could charge, it seemed unlikely that he'd get out of this alive.

_Is __this __it __for __me__, then, Natasha__?_ he wondered. _Is __this __how __I__'__m __going __to __go __out__? __Well, then__... __that __pretty __much __sucks__,_ he thought miserably. But, instead of his life flashing before his eyes, all he saw was her, and the regret that filled him in that moment was so acute that it hit him even more profoundly than his current fear. There was just so, so much regret. Regret that he didn't free her from Loki's spell… regret that he never truly tried to explore their relationship on a deeper level. Regret that he never told her... he never told her that he...

_Well__, __fuck_, Clint thought as he sprinted frantically down a corridor, finally letting the feelings that he had always kept buried and compartmentalized rush to the surface, overwhelming him in their intensity.

After all, it's not every day you come to realize that you've fallen in love with the deadliest spy on the planet. Understandably, even if on some level he had known it all along, it was kind of a shock to his system.

And when the Hulk swatted Clint aside like a mere insect, sending him flying into a wall, he closed his eyes and let his mind conjure up the beautiful features that he knew so well, better than even his own.

It was with Natasha as his last thought that Clint waited for the Hulk to strike the killing blow.

But, it never came.

By the grace of God - well, literally, _a god_, Clint supposed - Thor came out of nowhere, like a bullet, and tackled the Hulk through the adjoining wall.

Finally able to breathe again, Clint couldn't bring himself to do much more than shake with relief.

* * *

Huddled near the vents, Clint was recovering both physically and mentally from almost being smashed into bits by the Hulk. Surprisingly, it was the latter that proved to be more difficult.

A familiar voice chirped into his earpiece, but Fury sounded more rattled than Clint was used to hearing him. Of course, it could have had something to do with the fact that the ship was rapidly losing altitude and they were probably _all going to die_.

"It's Romanoff... she took out our systems," Fury said, and Clint inhaled sharply. _Natasha_... He should have guessed that she was here. Who else could have wrought havoc on S.H.I.E.L.D. so effectively?

"She's headed for the detention lab. Does anybody copy?"

After a slight pause, Clint said, "This is Agent Barton. I copy."

And, as if it had been destined to be a face-off between Clint and Natasha all along, the moment he'd been both dreading and aching for had finally come.

_I __told __you __that __I__'__d __come __for __you__, __Natasha__. __Time __to __free __you __from __that __bastard __once __and __for __all__._

* * *

Perching himself up on higher ground, a position befitting to the Hawk, Clint watched as Natasha strode down the catwalk purposefully. It had been over six months since he'd last laid eyes on her, and he quickly assessed the changes in her appearance.

Her hair was shorter now, a lighter shade of red, and her curls were less defined. But, despite the differences, it wasn't her hair that drew his attention. It was when he saw her eyes, blue and cold and soulless instead of brown and warm and captivating, that alarm seized him.

No matter how hard he looked, even with his unparalleled vision, he couldn't see _his_ Natasha anywhere in those eyes - and that scared him. Fortunately, he didn't have time to let the matter distress him any longer, as the window for taking action was closing. Clint had to stop her from reaching Loki, and the only way to do that without killing her was to incapacitate her. After that, well - he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Of course, he couldn't just shoot her with an arrow - he didn't want to hurt her, after all - so, it seemed likely that this was going to turn into a fistfight.

Although Clint was highly skilled when it came to hand-to-hand combat, he knew that Natasha had the advantage over him in that style of fighting. Therefore, in order to defeat her, he had to find a way to put them on an even playing field.

Pulling out his bow and changing the setting in his quiver, Clint shot an arrow so that it landed a few feet in front of her, releasing a green, noxious sleeping agent.

He heard her cough violently as she inhaled some of the gas, but Natasha quickly rolled away from the fumes before they could render her unconscious.

Still, Clint knew that her senses would be dulled, that she'd be slower and not as sharp as usual. Now _he_ had the upper hand, and he'd be sure not to let it go to waste.

As Natasha continued to cough, Clint swung down toward her, like an Olympic gymnast on the uneven bars, and kicked her in the stomach as he descended. She went reeling backward to the ground, but soon recovered, using acrobatics to jump back up to a standing position.

Natasha rushed forward to attack, attempting to immobilize him with her Widow's Bite, but thanks to the sleeping gas, Clint's reflexes were faster. He dodged her easily with the help of his bow, and then landed a quick elbow to her sternum.

Yet, the Black Widow is one of many talents, and sensing that she was at a disadvantage, she pulled yet another weapon out of her arsenal.

"Why are you fighting me, Agent Barton?" she asked, her tone soft and vulnerable. Clint wasn't used to hearing Natasha sound that vulnerable, and it disconcerted him. "I thought we were partners... I thought you were my fri-"

"Don't!" Clint growled, cutting her off. Her words sliced through him like a hot knife, and for an agonizing second, he wondered if he had been wrong - if his Natasha really _was_ somewhere in those cold eyes...

"Please help me," she begged, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm trying to fight this, to fight Loki's hold over me, but it just hurts so much. I can't... it hurts... won't you help me?" she pleaded, sounding scared and in pain.

Her words tugged at him, resonating strongly with his natural instinct to protect her, and Clint was so close to saying yes, so close to dropping his guard - he could deny Natasha nothing, after all - when Loki's poisonous words pierced through his mind.

_"I'll make her kill you. __Slowly, intimately, in every way she knows you fear. And then she'll wake just long enough to see her good work, and when she screams I'll split her skull!"_

Trembling slightly at how close Loki's bargain was to becoming true, Clint knew then, without a doubt, that he had to be strong in his resolve.

"Please... all I want is to be with you," Natasha told him, inching closer. "Isn't this what you've always wanted?" she drawled slowly, subtly running her hands down the length of her body. "Don't you want me?" she continued, her voice nothing but a soft purr.

Clint smiled ruefully. He'd dreamed of Natasha seducing him more times than he could count, but this sick perversion of his fantasies seemed more like a nightmare.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he said, his voice deep and gritty. "But you're not the one I want."

Grabbing his bow, he swung it at her forcefully, sending her flying once again. This time, though, her head connected with the railing, momentarily stunning her.

On her knees, Natasha looked up at him, her eyes still clouded with traces of Loki's magic. "Clint?" she asked thickly, sounding discombobulated.

This time, Clint flinched. He could finally see a small indication of her, _his_ Natasha, which should have filled him with relief. But, considering what he had to do, he felt nothing but horror. "Forgive me, Tasha," he said sadly, and then punched her in the face, knocking her unconscious.

Lifting her limp body up into his arms, he cradled her head gently into his chest. "Come back to me," he whispered softly into her ear. Kissing her on the cheek in the same spot where his fist had landed, he then carried her toward the med-bay.

When Fury announced Agent Coulson's death over the loudspeaker only minutes later, Clint held Natasha to him tightly and cried silently into her hair.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_And yes, my streak of chapters continuing to get longer has continued, in case you were wondering. This chapter is actually half as long as the previous three chapters combined!  
_

_Anyway please review and let me know what you think if you have the time, I would really appreciate it! :-)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I know that I sound like a broken record, but once again - thank you so much to everyone who left a review. I feed on all the positive comments, and I tried to keep all of the critiques in mind when writing this next chapter. **  
**

As for the chapter itself, the scene that takes place in Natasha's pre-SHIELD life is once again just completely made up by me, inspired loosely by some things that were hinted at in the movie and by some things that I read about the comic books.

Finally, I want to let you all know that I'm going to be away this week (from Monday until June 3rd), so updating might be difficult. I'm going to do my best to write and update during the week anyway, but if you don't see a new chapter until next Sunday, 1) don't worry, I didn't abandon the story, and 2) I'm really sorry for the delay. So, we'll see what happens!

Anyway, here is the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

_The room was large - around 900 square feet, if Natasha had to guess - but she was the only person in it. Lying in its center while strapped to the cell's sole piece of furniture (an uncomfortable metal gurney), it was clear, though, that she was a captive and not a guest. The rest of the space was empty, and despite the fact that she'd been a prisoner for months, it hadn't taken her all of that time to memorize every detail of the bare environment. __Every surface she could see was gray and sterile, covered in steel, making her current chambers feel cold and unforgiving._  


_The starkness of her surroundings only served to add to her isolation, and she felt as if she hadn't seen another human being for years. But, it couldn't have been that long since her captors had last fed her, __taken her to the bathroom_, or given her water... even though they never said as much as one word to her whenever they did.

_When two men in lab coats entered the room, different from the expressionless drones that normally took care of her needs, Natasha tensed. One of the men was holding a metal contraption in his hand, most likely a torture device, but it wasn't something that she'd ever seen before._

_"What are you planning to do to me?" Natasha asked hoarsely in Russian, her voice sounding like rusty instrument that hadn't been played in a really long time._

_But, the scientists just continued to ignore her. One of them spent a few minutes checking her vitals, and then took out a syringe, filled with some kind of brown liquid. He gave it a quick squirt to rid it of air bubbles, and relentlessly plunged the needle toward her._

_Natasha began thrashing against her bindings, desperately trying to prevent the unknown fluid from entering her system, but her efforts proved futile as a vein in her left arm was ultimately penetrated._

_The effect of the drug was almost instantaneous. She stopped struggling and suddenly felt docile, her pupils slowly evaporating into tiny dots. When the second scientist put the metal contraption that he was carrying onto her head, he met no resistance from her. Tightening the head gear's two screws, one near each temple so that it fit her snugly, the man and his accomplice then placed tubes up her nose and mouth._

_Two dual-pronged arms from the top of the head piece began to move downward until they rested in front of her eyeballs. They then inched forward, each prong grabbing a section of her eyelids until they had forced her eyes open wide, rendering her unable to blink. Finally, two palm-sized video screens descended to a position in front of her eyes. _

_It wasn't long before a video began playing, at first entrancing her with moving shapes and colors, but soon evolving into something much more sinister. She heard a voice repeatedly telling her who she was, who her family was, where she lived, who she worked for, who her friends were, and who her enemies were, as images depicting each narrative flashed over and over in front of her face._

_None of it was true. Yet, after being subjected to five additional brainwashing sessions, she started to believe it._

_After the eighth time, she was unmade._

* * *

Natasha woke up gasping, struggling against her bindings. Strapped once again to a gurney, just like all those years ago, she was unable to free herself from her nightmare, from her memories. As full-fledged panic set in, she started to hyperventilate.

"Tasha... Natasha!" a man yelled, trying to get her attention. As he rested his hand gently on her shoulder, her head snapped in his direction, assessing him.

She recognized this man. He was her enemy. They'd been fighting moments ago and he - without another thought, she tried to bring her hands to his neck so that she could snap it, but the bindings on her arms would not relent.

It was as her eyes locked onto his gray, worried ones, though, that everything came rushing back to her. The Tesseract … Loki … his scepter … _his __spell_. And the man she was looking at, he wasn't her enemy - he was her partner, her friend, the only person in the world that she'd ever completely trusted. He was-

"Clint," she whispered, his eyes calming her like a tranquilizer, and as the adrenaline from her "fight or flight" reaction moments ago started to wear off, she leaned back into the gurney, completely spent.

"Yes, that's right," he responded, his relief palpable. "I'm here. You're going to be okay, Tasha," he told her firmly.

That was just like Clint, always believing the best of her - even when they'd first met, when his mission had been to kill her for her crimes. Often, it was comforting, but sometimes, it was just damn exhausting. Having him act this way only minutes after she'd wanted to break his neck fell under the latter.

As he began undoing her bindings, she was filled with considerable trepidation. "Are you sure you should do that?" she asked him, afraid that she'd lose herself again, afraid that she'd hurt him, _kill_ him. "I'm not completely myself yet."

"Oh, you're yourself, alright," he said with a chuckle, and she suddenly felt the urge to slap his smug smile off of his face. Natasha couldn't help but feel indignant that he would assume to know her better than she knew herself - the Black Widow, of all people, was hardly an open book. "And if you want to slap me right now," he continued, as if reading her mind, "don't worry. That's _definitely_ you and not Loki's magic."

Natasha rolled her eyes. He was infuriating! And the worst part was, he probably knew how much she was secretly enjoying this playful conversation... She snuck a glance at him, and then sighed in defeat. Forget probably, he _definitely_ knew.

The way that Clint could really _see_ her, the way that he knew her _true_ self - it unnerved her. Having been a spy for most of her life, ever since she was a child even, Natasha was not only used to hiding her real persona, but also making people believe that she was whoever she wanted to be. Hell, she'd been acting a part for so long that she wasn't even sure if _she_ knew who she really was anymore. But, Clint of all people had compromised her, and as unsettling as it was, it also made her feel less alone.

"Besides," Clint persisted, unbuckling her last strap and sitting down next to her, "If Loki's magic comes back, I'll just smack you in the head again."

"Is that why the left side of my face feels like it's on fire?" Natasha asked with a wince.

Clint looked away from her, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "It was the only thing I could think of to bring you back," he said sheepishly. "That other you? She was kind of a drag, so I couldn't just let her hang around. She'd overstayed her welcome," he teased lightly. "But, if you want to know the real reason that I did it - well, it's about time that _I_ had a chance to be the prettier one, don't you think?"

Natasha let out a brief chortle, but even though Clint's words were jesting and full of banter, there was no trace of amusement in his eyes, as if he were doing nothing more than putting on a show for her benefit.

It was only then that she came to realize how worn out he looked, with worry lines that he'd never had before now etched into his handsome features. Before she could ask him about that, though, he cupped her injured cheek with his hand, stroking it repeatedly with an unhurried thumb. "I'm so sorry, Tasha," he murmured sincerely, the facade of levity now completely abandoned. "You know that I'd never hurt you - well, the real you..." he trailed off lamely, his eyes haunted with guilt. "Are you in a lot of pain?" he asked.

_Not __when __you __do that_, she thought, letting herself indulge briefly in his delicate caresses. Fighting against her inner desires, she resisted the temptation to nestle her cheek even further into his tender palm. Using techniques she had learned at an early age, Natasha was careful to control her heart rate so that it pulsed at a normal speed, not wanting to reveal to Clint on any level how he affected her. Wasn't _she_ supposed to be the Black Widow, after all? And yet, here she was, feeling like the prey, caught in another's web...

Pulling away from him, her eyes now blank and her tone reserved, she said, "I'm fine. Really. If anything, I should thank you."

Clint looked at his hand, now suspended in the air without a purpose, and then rested it on his leg as he glanced at her uncertainly. "I'm sorry, Natasha, I shouldn't have-"

"No, it's fine," Natasha interrupted quickly, unwilling to let him add more weight to the onus that he had already burdened himself with. "It's just that..." she started, and closed her eyes tightly as memories of her actions under Loki's spell started to taunt her mind. "After what Loki did to me... I mean, after the things _I_ did... the things I did to _you_, no less... I don't deserve your kindness, Clint."

Opening her eyes again, she was taken aback by the tumultuous emotions that she found in _his_. For a brief second he looked completely - well, _tortured_ - but then he quickly masked whatever he'd been thinking. "Nothing that happened under Loki's spell was your fault, Tasha," he said forcefully. "_Nothing_. And he'll suffer for what he did, I promise you."

"Oh yeah?" she asked. "And how is that? Clint, he's making his move _today_," Natasha told him, wondering how they would have time to regroup and create a plan of attack.

"We'll have to just figure it out as we go along," he said with a shrug.

For as long as she could remember, Clint had been reserved, patient, and calculating when it came to his missions. Even as cocky as he was, it wasn't like him to want to head into a war with a completely half-assed plan, at best. "Clint, what... what's gotten into you?" she asked.

The anguish she'd seen for only an instant before once again filtered into his eyes, but was soon extinguished as his expression darkened. She could see him deliberating something in his head, as if debating what to say to her.

"Tasha," he finally said, "Agent Coulson... Phil. Loki killed him."

Natasha gasped, gripping the side of the gurney tightly with her hands. "Clint, no..." she begged, her chest aching with grief. For a brief second she almost longed to be under Loki's spell again, to not care about anything or anyone, to be at complete peace...

But no, she wasn't a monster. And Phil Coulson was a good man - he deserved to be mourned.

When Clint moved to console her with his embrace, she didn't resist him this time. Under these circumstances, she'd allow herself this one comfort. "I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair, his voice filled with pain.

Yes, that's right. _Clint_. He also had to be hurting over what had happened to Phil. The two of them had been close, had known each other for a long time. But now their handler was dead - and it was all her fault. "If I hadn't broken into the airship, if I hadn't caused Loki's escape, then Phil would still be alive," she commented blankly.

She felt Clint's arms tighten. "I told you not to do that to yourself. I told you-"

"You told me what?" she asked, pulling away from him. "Not everything. Dammit, Clint, I'm a spy for God's sake. You don't think I can tell that you're still keeping something from me?"

"Tasha..." he said miserably, and Natasha would have given anything at that moment to take away his suffering. "You're right. There's something else..."

"Tell me," she whispered, moving her hand over his and squeezing it softly.

He looked down at his lap and took a deep breath, as if steeling himself, before he returned his gaze to hers. "Natasha... when Loki had you under that spell... did you …? Did he force you to-"

"Time to go," a voice interrupted. The pair glanced up to see Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, their expressions fierce with determination. That is, until Stark started smirking at them. _The smug bastard, he hasn't changed a bit_, Natasha thought, half annoyed, half amused.

"Aw, gee, Cap, where are your manners?" Stark asked. "Don't tell me that they hadn't invented knocking yet by the 1940s?"

"I'm sorry, M'am, Agent Barton," Rogers apologized to them. "Forgive me, but there's no time for manners." He then turned his attention to Clint. "Can you fly one of those jets?" he asked.

"Yeah, I can," Clint told him.

"Then suit up," Rogers commanded. The captain then turned briefly to Natasha, giving Clint a questioning look. Clint finished the silent conversation by nodding slightly.

"You, too," Rogers said to her, then disappeared back into the hallway.

The two obeyed silently, shelving their conversation for another day - assuming that they both lived to see another day, of course. The mission came first, it always did. And Loki would lose - she'd see to it, no matter what. She'd make sure he paid for what he did to her, for what he did to Phil, and for whatever the hell he'd done to Clint - oh yes, he would pay.

* * *

_To be continued... _

_So, my streak of chapters getting longer and longer has ended, but it didn't seem like any of the Chitauri battle stuff would mesh in well with this chapter :-)  
_

_Thank you all for reading, and please let me know what you think so far._


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